The sun was a vibrant orange as it sank below the cusp of the belfry, leaving long shadows that stretched across the square. Crickets and night-birds were singing in the black forest just beyond. It had grown quiet over the past hour, the usual hubbub of the market replaced by an uneasy quietude as most of the denizens had gone home for the evening and the vendors were hurriedly packing up their stalls before night settled over the town.
From inside the smithy, a dissonant clanging could be heard. A shadow made its way across the courtyard toward the sound, then paused briefly at the door. It lifted a gloved hand, then struck thrice. The clanging stopped, and there was a light, uneven shuffling which steadily grew closer.
The door opened, and the flickering light from the forge spilled out into the darkening street over the rough and uneven cobblestones. The sliver of light fell across the cloaked figure, half-revealing a hooded wolf. His eye glinted as he smiled. ``Good evening.''
Inside the smith gasped, taking a quick doddering step backwards. He slumped, then quickly caught himself as his arms draped over his wooden crutches. The old dog righted himself with a grunt, glaring at the wolf in the jamb. ``Is the sheriff too craven now to show his ugly face?'' He sneered. ``Come to pilfer the scraps?'' He motioned wide with his hands. ``Well take a look around, there's nothing left.''
The wolf raised an eyebrow. ``What an unusual response. But all right, if you insist.''
He stepped forward, sidling past the old wooden doorway into the smithy. The furnace was still in use; a fire burned inside of a circular stone pit in the centre of the room, filling the inside of the building with a suffocating heat. There was a small vestibule in the back corner with the shutters open, letting in a current of cold evening air that did little to dissipate the warmth.
The wolf tugged at his collar, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his tunic as he meandered around the small uncomfortably hot room, his eyes trailing over the scene. The walls were made of thick stone blocks, and upon them hung a multitude of various tools. Above, the roof was blackened with soot. In the corner there was a barrel with an odd assortment of seemingly discarded materials.
Upon the anvil, there was a long piece of metal which looked like it was being formed into a sword, still glowing-hot as the hammer sat nearby. ``Don't let the iron cool on my behalf,'' the wolf said, leaning against the wall. ``I can wait.''
With a suspicious glare the dog turned, propping his crutches back up under his arms. He shuffled back over to his anvil, the wooden crutches clacking against the floor. A rope was affixed to the bellows, trailing upward to a long wooden pole that was suspended from the ceiling. The dog awkwardly leaned one of his crutches against the wall, trembling as he reached up and gave the lever a light pull. The bellows lifted up underneath with a hiss, the coals in the furnace glowed brightly as a wave of heat washed across the room.
He pressed the metal deep into the coals, then brought it to the anvil, hammering on it as sparks flew. His leg was wound tightly with bandages, and his knee buckled and trembled as he brought the hammer down against the glowing-hot iron. He moved the metal across, back into the glowing coals. His entire leg was shaking, and he reached toward the lever above, his back crooked, his fingertips barely grazing against it.
After a moment of watching the dog struggle, the wolf sighed and stood from the wall. He stepped forward, the smaller canine eyeing him suspiciously as he approached. The wolf gripped the lever above. The dog continued to glare, though the wolf could smell the deep, unrelenting fear effusing off of him. ``What do you want?''
The wolf tilted his head toward the lever. ``To help?''
With a sigh, the dog grabbed the hot piece of metal and pressed it back into the furnace. ``All right.''
The wolf smiled, giving the lever a gentle tug. The blacksmith continued to work, avoiding eye contact as he hammered away. As he struck the glowing slab of metal over and over again, it seemed to be taking shape. The metal went back into the furnace, and the wolf pulled the lever. ``What is it?'' he said, hoping the question would help to ease some of the tension.
``Axle,'' came the dog's curt reply. His head was craned down, focusing squarely on the metal beneath him.
``Oh,'' he said, feeling disappointed as he gave the pole another tug. ``I thought it was a sword.''
The dog grunted, striking the metal. ``They don't pay me for that kind of work. Not anymore. So I take whatever odd jobs I can; mostly just fixing things for the townsfolk.''
``Odd jobs, huh?'' The wolf rubbed at the fur on his chin. The older canine nodded, pressing the metal back into the flame. With a pull of the lever, the wolf said, ``I have an odd job for you.''
With another glare the dog said, ``I'm not interested.''
``I'll pay,'' the wolf replied, his voice softening. ``I'll pay more than the usual fare if you can have it done tomorrow before noon.''
``Still not interested.''
``I can pay you now.'' He reached into the pocket of his tunic and brought out an uncut silver penny, handing it over.
The dog took it with uncertainty, turning the coin over as the light of the forge reflected off the silver. He looked up at the taller canine, raising an eyebrow as he set the glowing axle aside, resting it on the edge of the furnace. ``You really mean this, don't you?'' He placed the coin into his pocket and sighed, his shoulders slumped. ``I'm sorry. I'm not used to...people like you ever giving anything. It's always taking and more taking.''
``People like me?'' The wolf scoffed, though his lips held the faintest trace of a smirk.
``You know what I mean.'' He rolled his eyes. ``The sheriff and his men.''
``Well, you can just refer to me as William.''
The dog nodded. ``All right, William.'' He shook the wolf's hand curtly. ``Otto.'' Grabbing the end of the axle, he pushed it back into the coals. William pulled the lever, the coals glowed, embers trailing up toward the roof as another wave of hot air swept through the room. ``Anyway, what are you after?''
``I need a bow,'' he finally admitted.
Otto fumbled the hammer slightly, blinking. ``I'm not a bowyer,'' he said. The dog then nodded toward the weapon slung around William's back. ``Besides, you already have a bow.''
``I know - '' He simpered `` - I'm sorry. But while I was digging around I noticed you have some yew cuttings and twine in that barrel over there. It doesn't have to be fancy; it doesn't even have to be good.''
Otto raised an eyebrow. He turned, then resumed hammering on the axle. ``Strange request. What's the purpose?''
``Archery lessons,'' William said, chuckling softly as he scratched the back of his neck. ``Met a kid yesterday and she was eager to learn.''
The hammer paused midair, Otto stared at him. ``Really?''
William shrugged. ``Yes.''
Otto stared at him a moment longer, squinting. He set the hammer down, then returned his attention to the axle, turning it over in his hands as he examined it from each side. The furnace burned faintly against the silence. ``You going to corrupt her to your cause or something?''
The wolf blinked. ``What cause?''
``I don't know. Extortion?'' Otto shrugged.
William pulled the lever again and motioned toward the furnace, and Otto reluctantly pressed the end of the axle back in and resumed working. ``Don't worry; I'll probably just end up teaching her to shoot at people like me.''
Despite the tension, the old dog couldn't help but chuckle softly. He gave the iron a few strikes of the hammer, glancing up with a smirk as the sparks reflected in his eyes. ``Suppose I can get behind that.''
The hour drew on, the coals burned brightly in the growing dark as Otto worked into the evening, the embers trailed upward from the fire in delicate spirals, blinking like the stars in the crimson sky above, covered by a blanket of lavender limned clouds. A row of wooden targets sat by the edge of the courtyard under the stars, illuminated by the flickering light of the brazier against the stone wall. William stood, bow in hand.
In another half hour the sun would be completely gone. It was already nigh too dark to see, the lambent shadows obscuring the targets. He took aim. The arrow flew forward, hitting close to the centre. Smiling, he took another arrow from his quiver and nocked it, raising his bow.
Something jammed against his elbow, causing him to yelp. The arrow swooshed away, then cracked as it broke against the wall behind the target.
``Why did you miss, friend?''
William turned, glaring. ``Why did you make me miss, `friend'?'' The wolf that stood before him was slightly taller than William, and in the same garb that the rest of the sheriff's archers wore. William turned back toward the target, his lip twitching as he felt the fur on the back of his nape stand up. ``I am not in the mood, Matthew.''
The other wolf smiled. ``Ah, there is no need to feel nettled. I am merely trying to keep you on your toes. In the midst of battle, any number of things can go awry; you must be able to aim true, regardless of the circumstances.''
William sighed, then nocked another arrow. He brought up his bow and aimed. This time, the other wolf's hand grabbed his arm suddenly and pulled it away. William had expected it, and twisted his body to compensate. The arrow flew forward, curving in an exaggerated arc before dipping back towards the target.
``That is better,'' the other wolf said, the grin still upon his face.
``I appreciate your concern.'' William wrested his arm away from the other wolf's grip, feeling his lip twitch again. ``But I am not training for battle.''
``Oh, I see. Are you `making believe' that you are alongside King Richard, charging forth to smite the heathens from the Holy Land?'' Matthew chuckled. ``You do have a penchant for imagination.''
William flushed, and he glanced away. ``I am merely trying to keep myself occupied.''
Matthew offered a slow, noncommittal shrug. ``You could be collecting taxes. It's what the rest of us do.''
``Taxes have already been collected this month; I'd be wasting my time.''
``Well you never know.'' Matthew smirked again. ``Perhaps the people of Nottingham are holding out on us.''
``We are the people of Nottingham.''
``Really? Have you checked the coin lining your pockets as of late?''
William averted his gaze, his hands trembled. He jumped slightly as Matthew's hand clapped him on the shoulder.
Without another word, the tall wolf turned and walked away, his footsteps growing quieter as he made his way toward the keep. William took a deep breath, then glanced over his shoulder to make certain he was really gone. The courtyard was empty, the grass blew lightly in the wind. A blackbird flitted by overhead. In the distance the church's bell pealed, its hollow tone ringing out over the quietude as William continued to practise, the sun sinking lower, the clouds gradually swept away, leaving a black star-speckled sky.
Sis skipped quickly through the forest as she kept her dress held up above her ankles. She had managed to slip away from the rest of the family, explaining that she was going to `go play in the woods', darting off before anyone could question her.
Her little heart raced from excitement. She was eager for her first lesson - though there was a part of her that felt hesitant and nervous at the idea. Part of it was because the person teaching her was one of the sheriff's men, and another part was because he was a wolf.
She knew all too well the stories she had been told when she was even younger, tales which were designed to frighten - and caution - children who were attentive enough to listen. Wolves were to be avoided. Wolves were dangerous. Wolves ate rabbits. Of course, those were mostly just fairy tales; they said all the same things about foxes, and Robin Hood never ate anyone. Still, thinking about the fact that she was going to be alone with a wolf today made her shudder.
There was something else about him, too; something she couldn't place.
He seemed off somehow. His disposition was unusual, and though he had been nothing but friendly toward her, he had a `strange way of carrying himself', as her mother would say. Perhaps it was just because of her innate fear of his species. Perhaps not.
As it approached noon, the town square had become crowded; more so than yesterday morn. The chatter of Nottingham's denizens permeated the air, and the little bunny found it difficult to navigate through the drove of people, wading through a tangle of arms and legs.
She skipped up to a small cobblestone clearing amongst the hubbub and looked around. There was a multitude of animals, clustered here and there around the market stalls in little groups, perusing the various goods that were on display: cabbages, potatoes, rolls of linen, bags of grain, loaves of maslin seated out in a row - the sight of which made Sis' mouth water.
She reached out tentatively, and a large fur-covered hand quickly slapped her on the wrist. With a yelp, she drew her hand back and rubbed it, scowling up at the shop-keep. She backed away, muttering under her breath. The troubadour was notably absent today; there was no music playing in the square, just the incessant sound of people chattering about various topics - mostly the state of the world, the high costs of basic necessities, the indigence they all had to suffer through. `Someday someone will have to stand up and do something about all this,' she overhead an older badger say.
It was true, she knew. Things like this could not last forever. But how could any ordinary person go against the might of the king? Robin Hood tried, but he was chased into the woods, living his life like a hunted animal, always on the run, hiding out with Little John and the few other outlaws who followed him, never being able to settle in one place for long for fear of being caught and executed.
Sis whimpered at the thought, feeling tears sting at her eyes. Trembling, she quickly wiped them away before anyone could see.
The church bell pealed. Some of the denizens turned to watch, gazing up at the tall steeple which stood against the stark cerulean sky. The large bell swung back and forth languidly. It rang out twelve times, then as it fell silent, everyone resumed going about their business. A light wind blew through the square, causing the young rabbit to shiver.
``You made it.''
Sis gasped and spun around, taking a step backward. The hooded wolf from yesterday was looming above her, his large bow slung around his back. Her eyes trailed down: a small burlap sack was clutched in his right hand, and in the other -
Her ears perked up, eyes widening.
``Turns out I didn't have to steal anything after all.'' He smiled, presenting the bow to her. It was small, and roughly made. The bowstring was frayed, fibres sticking out everywhere like a blanket made of wool. A small crack ran up the side, and a band of iron girded the middle as if it was holding the wood together. Still, the sight of it made her tail wag. He reached into the bag and pulled out a quiver. ``A little quiver, with little arrows, and a little bow.'' He held them out to her, grinning. ``For a little rabbit.''
``R-really? For me?''
The wolf nodded. She took the quiver, slinging it over her shoulder before hesitantly taking the bow itself, gazing at it in wonder. Despite its rough-looking condition, she couldn't help but find herself stunned. ``Otto put it together last night,'' the wolf explained. ``He said it was the best he could do.''
``Oh, it's wonderful.'' She continued to gaze at the bow in her small hands, giving the bowstring a gentle tug. Sis paused, her ears flattening against her head. ``I've never gotten anything like this before.''
``Well there is a first time for everything.'' He offered her a smile. ``Speaking of, are you ready for your first lesson?''
She looked up at him, nodding shyly.
The two of them ambled casually though the square, making their way through the crowd and away from the hubbub, Sis keeping her new bow clutched close to her chest as she glanced over her shoulder. A few passersby gave the pair odd glances. ``Where are we going?'' she asked quietly.
``Mount Sinai,'' he answered facetiously. He looked back at her, grinning. She blinked in surprise, then giggled. He said, ``There is a little meadow on the edge of the Trent, a secluded place where I sometimes go to practise my archery - or get away from people. I've set up a few targets.''
Sis nodded, following him further out of the town. Her heart thumped again in her chest, feeling as if she was potentially making a mistake by doing this. `Don't talk to strangers,' was the old adage that her mother had instilled in her, again and again. Now here she was, letting one lead her out of town, away from everything and everyone else, to a place where no one might be able to find or help her if something went wrong.
She came to a stop, shuddering. Her gaze fell to the ground as she felt her heart racing.
The wolf walked on a few more paces before he realised she wasn't following him anymore. He turned around, regarding her curiously. She was shaking, her bow held tightly against her chest. ``You okay?'' he asked, his voice soft.
They were standing just beyond the edge of town, the paddocks dotting the fields which stretched down and away into the vale. A tall wizened tree sat upon the cusp of a grassy knoll, its branches stretching out over the bramble-covered hillside, casting dark shadows underneath.
Sis shuddered again, hugging herself as her gaze was fixed on the ground. She shook her head, sniffling. ``I'm...scared.''
William's ears flattened against his head. He stood there, unsure of what to do. After a moment, he slowly sat himself down on his haunches, resting his hands on his knees. ``I guess I am a little scary, huh?'' He smiled sadly, glancing away.
The young rabbit nodded, sniffling.
He reached up and pulled off his hood, letting it fall back over his shoulders. Sis found herself staring at him uncertainly, blinking. As he sat there on the grass, smiling at her warmly as his bent ear twitched, his amber eyes searching hers, he almost looked vulnerable. There was a softness in his expression, in the way his shoulders were slumped. Her grip on the bow loosened slightly. She hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder at the town behind. For a while they sat there in silence, the two of them watching each-other. His shoulders relaxed. Sis shuffled nervously. She looked down at the bow in her hands.
He said, ``We don't have to do this, you know. If you wish, you can go back home now and I won't mind.'' He simpered, scratching the back of his neck. ``At least you will have a new bow to practise with.''
After a moment's hesitation, she spoke up. ``I w-want to learn, though.''
``All right.'' The wolf smiled. ``Then let me teach you. That's all I'll do; whatever you might've heard about wolves, you need not worry about me.'' He placed his hand over his heart. ``Promise. Rabbit, snakes and a lizard head - you know the rest.''
She giggled. ``You know about the oath?''
``Every child does. Believe it or not I was like you once, a long time ago.'' He sighed. Sis couldn't help but smile softly. William grunted, leaning forward as he reached his hand out toward her. She looked at his hand curiously, then back at him. ``Help me up,'' he said.
The little rabbit reached out hesitantly. She grasped her diminutive fingers around his large wrist, then gave a tug. Nothing happened. Furrowing her brows, she took a step back and gave the most earnest pull she could muster. She clenched her teeth from the effort.
``Use both hands,'' he said. She grabbed him with both her little paws, pulling with all her might. Finally, the wolf rose up from the ground, towering above her. He swayed lightly, then reached out his hands to steady himself. He sighed in relief, brushing himself off. Sis looked up at him, beaming. ``You saved my life. I owe you, Miss...?''
``Sis!'' she chimed eagerly.
He smiled at her, his eyes glinting. ``William.''
The two of them walked down the dirt path that led down the gently-sloping hillside. Toward the bottom of the field, a line of firs rose up, marking the edge of the forest. The glinting reflection of the river could be seen just beyond through the verdant leaves as they gently swayed in the wind. They walked underneath the shade of the pines, Sis still feeling somewhat uneasy as she trailed behind the tall wolf.
Past the grove was a small grass-covered clearing upon the river's edge, the meadow speckled with ivory ramsons flowers that glittered in the sunlight. William brought his hood back up over his head as they stepped into the open.
Three crudely-made hay targets were to their left, positioned at varying distances. ``This is what I can teach you,'' the wolf said, setting the sack against the base of a tree before grabbing his bow off of his back. He nocked an arrow, then aimed and let it fly, the arrow thumping into the centre of the leftmost and closest target. ``Initially, we will try to get you hitting close targets consistently. Then, when you have improved - '' He nocked another. The arrow whizzed forward, sailing up in a long arc before it fell back down and embedded itself in the target at the farthest side of the field `` - no distance will hinder you.''
Sis gasped in amazement, her little eyes twinkling.
``It'll take time. Don't get your hopes up too readily, lest you open yourself to disappointment.'' William smiled at her. He leaned back against a nearby fir, crossing his arms. ``All right, show me what you can do.''
The young rabbit nodded, gulping as she held her bow uncertainly. She reached back, fumbling as she grasped at the arrows, pulling one loose. She brought it to the bowstring, the arrow shaking awkwardly in her fingers. She pulled the bowstring back. The bow shook. She let go, and the arrow dropped into the ground. Sis' eyes widened, and she looked at William with her mouth agape.
``It's okay,'' he reassured her with a light smile. ``Try again.'' Sis trembled, hesitantly taking another arrow from her quiver. The arrow tapped and bounced against the side of the bow as she held it loosely. ``Tilt the bow slightly to your left, it will help you keep the arrow steady.''
She did as instructed, her little arms shaking. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the tall wolf standing against the tree, his arms crossed. Just glimpsing him in an oblique manner made her feel uneasy, and she stiffened under his scrutiny. Trembling, she said, ``Y-you're making me nervous.''
``Oh?'' He raised an eyebrow.
``I c-can't shoot...when you're w-watching me.''
The wolf stared at her blankly for a moment, then said, ``How can I instruct you if I cannot see what you are doing?'' Sis stared at him for a while, fidgeting, shaking hopelessly. She glanced away. William sighed, reaching up and pulling his hood over his eyes, his muzzle poking out from underneath. ``Very well. Proceed.''
The sound of shuffling could be heard alongside the sound of the river flowing steadily in the background. There was a light creak of the bowstring being pulled taut. The bow creaked again, and there was a sudden thwip. A second later, a clattering. ``What happened?''
``I almost hit it!'' Sis said excitedly.
``Can I see?''
``Um-m, maybe soon?''
William sighed, scratching his arm. The wool brushed against his eyes, his nose twitching. ``So, where exactly did it land?''
``At the base of the target.''
``Okay. Close your left eye, look only with the right. Point the arrow's tip at the centre, then aim slightly higher.''
``It's...hard.''
``What's hard?''
``I can't line it up, and it hurts to pull.''
``Don't keep pulling. Line it up first, then pull only once you're ready to loose. How are you standing?''
``Huh?''
``Where are your feet?''
``Side by side?''
William shook his head. ``Stand sideways, your right foot behind your left.''
A pause. ``I don't understand.''
He brushed the lip of his hood back with his thumb, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light. The young rabbit was standing there in the grass, awkwardly positioned. He smirked. ``That's almost it. Can I help?''
Sis gulped. ``How?''
``Well, your stance is slightly off.'' William took a few steps closer, looming over the small bunny. His large hands settled on her little shoulders. Sis tensed up, her breath hitching in her throat, her heart thudding in her chest. The wolf's hands gently turned her shoulders until she was facing mostly sideways. She whimpered as she felt the tips of his claws brush against her arms. William's eyes flicked over her. He withdrew his hands slowly and glanced away. ``There,'' he said, taking a step back.
Her heart was hammering quickly. She took a deep breath, then another - squeezing her eyes shut before opening them again. She focused on the bow in her hands, then on the target positioned in the field ahead, trying to ignore her fear. He was just fixing my posture, she told herself. His claws had been so close, though. It would have been easy for him to hurt her just then if he had wanted to.
The girl shivered, feeling nauseous. The grass swayed lightly in the wind under her feet, the river whispered nearby, water splashing quietly against the bank. In the offing, the sounds of the bustling market could be heard permeating the air. She wondered where her mother was right now.
She pushed those thoughts aside, taking another breath before lifting her bow. She closed one eye, aimed toward the centre of the hay, then higher. The bow swayed lightly in her grasp, the arrow wobbling. She clenched her teeth, the tension of the bowstring straining her arm. Finally, she released.
The arrow flew, sailing forth in a shallow arc before thumping into the edge of the target. Sis gasped, freezing as her eyes twinkled. ``I hit it!'' she exclaimed, bounding about. Despite her fear just moments prior, she couldn't help but feel completely elated.
William smiled. ``I knew you had it in you. I bet you could do that again.''
``I bet you're right!'' she said, turning back toward the target and pulling another arrow from her quiver. She glanced at William briefly, taking an unconscious step away. She blinked, then aimed once more. This time, the arrow flew forth and then clipped the edge of the target, spiralling off into the grass.
Still, it was close, and Sis eagerly reached back for another arrow. Her fingers grasped at nothing, and her brows furrowed in confusion.
William chuckled. ``Hold on.'' He walked away from her, out into the field. Sis watched as he knelt down in the grass, his tail flicking behind him as he went from place to place, picking up the few arrows that had missed. He looked back at her and winked as he extricated the one that was embedded in the target, his fangs glinting in the sunlight. The large wolf ambled back to her slowly, the bundle of arrows clutched in his hand. He stopped in front of her, looming over her as he reached around and stuffed them back into her quiver.
He passed her an arrow, then glanced at the way she was standing. ``Perhaps it would help if you copied me,'' he said. He took a step back, then placed his feet diagonally, raising his bow along his side as he nocked an arrow. Sis looked at his posture, then shuffled as she tried to match her stance to his. She looked behind to make sure she was doing it right, though as she was now facing away, she had to crane her head practically upside-down and over her shoulder to see, her long ears flopping down her back. Well that's cute, William thought to himself, his tail wagging slightly. ``You've got it, don't worry.''
The young rabbit nodded, flashing a smile - though her eyes betrayed her lingering discomfort. Sis went to nock her arrow, but before she could put it to the string, William had already taken aim and loosed, his arrow thumping into the centre of the target. ``Hey!'' Sis pouted.
He grinned at her. ``Apologies.''
Over the next hour, they took turns shooting. William continually hit close to the centre, while Sis tended to hit the edge or miss entirely. Still, there was the occasional shot or two that landed closer to William's, causing Sis to enthusiastically keep trying. Every so often she'd ask William to take aim at the farther targets, and he'd oblige, his arrows striking true even upon the bullseye at the distant edge of the field. Sis would sometimes aim for those, missing terribly - and after having to trek all the way into the woods several times to retrieve her arrows, William gently discouraged her. ``We'll get to those ones in time,'' he assured her with a smile. ``But for now, why don't we take a break?''
``Aw,'' she complained. ``I was just starting to have fun!''
``We can keep practising after; I'm hungry,'' the wolf said. Sis froze, staring at him with wide eyes. He smirked and turned away, striding up to the bag he had placed against the tree. He reached down into it, then pulled out a round loaf of pandemain. The young rabbit gasped as she saw it, and a moment later her stomach grumbled. He sat himself on the ground with the bread in his lap, carefully cutting off a slice. He reached once more into his bag, pulling out a slab of butter wrapped in a small cloth.
Sis stood there watching as he unwrapped it, then cut off a couple pieces, spreading the creamy pats over the soft white bread. She looked at the ground dejectedly. But a moment later his large hand holding the slice of bread appeared under her nose. She took a step back in surprise, then looked at it in disbelief. ``What?'' he said. ``Are you going to tell me something inane like you don't eat bread?''
She shook her head. ``It's not that, it's just - '' She reached out, then hesitated, glancing away shamefully `` - I-I've not...had this kind before.''
The large wolf raised an eyebrow. ``Never ever?''
``Never ever ever,'' she assured him, looking back up at the morsel that was being offered to her.
``Oh, well, I think you'll like it.'' He flashed a smile, gesturing for her to take it. She took the slice from William's extended hand, her small fingers wrapping around it. He grinned, then began cutting another slice for himself.
Sis, however, couldn't stop staring in awe at the bread in her hands. It was soft to the touch, and a saccharine aroma wafted off of it, her little nose twitching at the scent as her mouth watered. She carefully brought it to her lips, nibbling a piece.
As soon as it touched her tongue, her eyes widened. It was delicious.
It was like biting through a cloud, and the bread tasted sweet. She went for another bite, but suddenly thought of Skippy and her smaller siblings; how seldom it was that they got to experience anything like this. They spent most of their lives scrounging, living off of scraps and whatever charity the church could provide. Ofttimes they would simply go hungry. And here she was on a warm day, in a field by the river, eating a delicacy that most of her family had never even laid eyes on. She glanced away in shame, feeling tears sting at her eyes.
William looked at her worriedly. ``Is it not to your liking?'' he said, half in jest.
Sis shook her head. ``I-it's very good.'' She looked at him, her eyes watering. Then a moment later she asked, ``W-why are you being kind to me?''
He blinked. ``I just thought I'd share; can't very well eat a whole loaf by myself.''
``I d-don't think I can have this. Not when the rest of my family...''
William looked at her, his brows furrowing. ``I purchased this specifically for us to share, as a reward for if you did well - and even if you didn't. I thought it might be something you liked.''
``I do like it,'' she assured him. ``I like it a lot.''
``If you're worried about the rest of your family, then I won't mind if you bring back whatever we don't finish. I can always get more.''
She whimpered. ``T-they'll think I stole it.''
William pondered this, scratching at his chin. ``I suppose that is a problem.'' He gazed at the hillside beyond the river, watching a windmill upon the cusp as it slowly turned. He took another bite, humming to himself. He said, ``Perhaps I can leave some at your doorstep tonight.''
Sis' eyes lit up at the idea. She opened her mouth, an agreement nearly leaping off her tongue, before she realised the implication. I'd have to tell him where I live. The young rabbit shuddered at the thought. ``I don't know,'' she replied shyly.
``Nothing to know,'' the wolf said. ``I'll be quick, and no one will be any wiser.''
Sis avoided his gaze as she fidgeted uncomfortably. He went back to eating, paying her no mind. She watched him as he bit off piece after piece, chewing idly as he looked into the distance. She looked again at the slice of buttered bread in her hands, feeling an all too familiar pang in her stomach. After a moment's consideration, she turned and sat herself upon the ground on the opposite side of the tree, taking another bite. The young rabbit felt a surge of guilt; she tried to ignore it, to simply enjoy what had been offered to her - but it was no use.
She looked over her shoulder at the large wolf sitting behind. The sun limned the side of his face, outlining his sharp teeth as he gnashed at the bread. Suddenly, without thinking, she asked, ``Do wolves eat meat?''
``Yes,'' he said curtly.
She forced herself to swallow, the bread feeling like a lump of wood in her throat. ``Why?''
``We have to.''
Her ears flattened against her head. ``Why?'' she asked again, her voice a tremulous whisper.
The large wolf sighed, glancing back at her. ``Because if we didn't, we would slowly starve. It would not matter how much of anything else we consumed. Without meat a wolf would perish; that is the way of things - it is in our nature.''
Sis sat for a while in silence, finishing her slice of bread. She hugged her knees to her chest, feeling all of her earlier confidence wane. ``Do you...eat rabbits?''
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. ``I would not eat you, nor would I eat anyone else in Nottingham.'' The wolf looked at her, and saw that she was shaking. ``There are wild creatures in the forest,'' he told her, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. ``Now, any other silly questions?'' She didn't immediately respond, and William took that as an invitation to stand back up, grabbing his bow off the grass. Sis followed hesitantly.
They continued practising for a while until the church bell rang in the distance, the sound echoing out across the fields. As time went on, the young rabbit slowly became more reticent. Her enthusiasm had lessened, and she grew quiet whenever the large wolf stood near.
Sis had just spent the rest of her arrows, and she quietly stood there watching as William took a few more shots at the distant-most target. He lifted his bow, and out of the corner of his eye he saw her stiffen from just the simple act of his movement. The arrow flew high over the target and into the woods, lost in the far thicket of bramble.
``You missed.'' The young rabbit looked up at him curiously, then glanced away as he looked back at her.
William's face fell, the corners of his lips twitching. ``The wind carried it,'' he told her. He walked into the clearing, picking up Sis' arrows that had fallen into the grass, then kept walking across the field and into the cold umbrage of the trees, drawing a long, shuddering breath.
It was unlike him to miss that badly - but the young rabbit's fear was getting to him, affecting him in ways that he didn't know were possible. Of course she's afraid, he had thought to himself, searching haplessly for his own arrow. I'm a wolf.
It wasn't something he thought about often, nor was there any point in dwelling on it. So he was a wolf; so what? People could be a lot of different things, and he didn't choose to be born as a wolf. Most of the time what he was had no bearing on how he behaved, or what he did, or how he composed himself. Wolf or not, at the end of it all he was just William.
But most of the time he wasn't alone in a field with someone who actively feared him. He would never be around someone who couldn't meet his gaze half of the time, who shivered like tree-leaves on a blustering day from his presence, who stiffened whenever he was near. Sure, some of the townsfolk would give him uncertain looks, but he always suspected that was because he wore the sheriff's garb; not due to his being a wolf.
She's just a cub, he reminded himself. All she knows of my kind are old tales. Somehow that knowledge didn't make it hurt any less. Seeing the way she acted, feeling the deep primordial fear that emanated off of her and crashed over him like a ravaging storm-tide, it reminded him of a darkness that he thought he'd interred and forgotten a long time ago: that his kind were seen as monsters.
He didn't spend much time searching before he declared the arrow lost. Once he returned, stuffing the arrows into Sis' quiver, he stepped back, turning away from her as the echoes of the distant bell finally died down into nothing, leaving only the sound of the flowing water and the wind as it soughed through the grass. ``Anyway I think you should be getting back, before anyone thinks you've gone missing.''
Sis nodded shyly. ``Okay.''
``You've been doing really well today.'' He looked at her again, offering a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
She glanced up at him. Her eyes flicked away, but a second later she forced herself to look at the tall wolf looming above. ``Truly?''
``Verily, you'll be shooting like Robin Hood in no time.''
The young rabbit couldn't help but grin, blushing slightly.
They walked back to the market in silence, the trek uphill long and arduous. The tall oak at the top was now casting long shadows halfway down the hillside, and a goat-woman appeared at the cusp, on her way to the river with a wooden bucket in each hand. She eyed the two of them curiously as she passed.
Slowly the paddocks and the houses at the edge of town came back into view as they crested the hill. William turned as they slowed to a stop, looking at the bow slung around Sis' back. ``Do you want me to hold onto that for you?''
Her eyes widened. ``Isn't it mine to keep?''
``Well yes,'' he said with a simper, ``but how will you explain it?''
She paused. ``I don't know.''
``Not that it's a problem if people find out you're taking archery lessons. But then there will be questions, and inevitably they will find out you've been spending time with a wolf, and then they'll ask who, and then you'll say that he's one of the sheriff's men, and - '' He clasped his hands over his head in a melodramatic fashion `` - oh it would be quite terrible!''
Sis stared at him blankly for a moment, and then, despite her inhibitions, a smile slowly crept onto her face. ``Yes, I suppose it would.'' She reached back, pulling off her bow and quiver before offering them to him.
The large wolf took them, tucking her bow under his arm as her quiver dangled haphazardly from its strap. ``Now, shall we reconvene in a week?''
``A week!?''
William blinked. ``Ah, that's right; that would seem like an eternity for you. Well how about in a couple of days? I'm occupied tomorrow with - '' He glanced down, scratching the back of his neck with a sigh `` - my duties. But the day after, perhaps?''
She smiled, nodding quietly.
He managed to smile back at her, then said, ``All right, it's settled then. And keep an ear out tonight for a knock on your door, after the sun has set.'' The wolf gave a flippant wave of his fingers, then turned and began to walk away.
Sis watched him for a moment, her eyes squinting. ``Wait...''
The wolf turned back to her, raising an eyebrow. ``Hm?''
``How do you know?''
He tilted his head. Then, a moment later he chuckled. ``Ah. You're wondering how I know where you live?'' The small rabbit nodded shyly, looking away. He couldn't help but smirk. ``There is only one rabbit family in Nottinghamshire, and I am a guardsman; it is my business to know these things. Worry not, I shan't visit if you should wish against it.''
The young rabbit swallowed a lump in her throat. ``Oh...''
His smirk faded, replaced by an apologetic smile. In that moment he looked all too vulnerable, as if the faintest opprobrium would break him. ``Hey,'' he said softly, glancing down at the ground, ``I understand you're nervous - to be honest, I'm nervous too. I've never taught anyone anything before, and well, I know this must seem scary for you. I'm a wolf after all.'' He laughed sadly, avoiding her gaze. ``But really, you do not have to worry about me.'' He smiled at her, then crouched down and tightened her hair-bow.
She stiffened, but didn't pull away.
He paused, then said. ``I'll leave the basket tonight, and after that if you don't want me to bother you, then I won't.''
She looked up at him, then said, ``It's okay, just...maybe don't show up unannounced.''
He smiled. ``That I can do.'' He stood again, then turned away as he walked back into town. Sis stayed where she was, watching as the sunlight caught his fur, and saw the way in which his tail drooped behind him.
He glanced back at her for a moment, then disappeared amongst the crowd.
